


Always

by cellard00rs



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 30!Stans, AU, Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sensuality, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Stan saves Ford from the portal. Now what?
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Always

"I could help you with that," Ford says quietly. It's one of the first things either of them has said to the other since Stan saved Ford from getting sucked into the portal. Stan is facing Ford, but his attention is turned towards the mirror behind him as he toys with the burn mark on his shoulder.

They moved silently - awkwardly - after the basement, after...everything. They didn’t have to speak. It was an unconscious connection – one held between twins only – that lead them to move towards the stairs and up to Ford’s room. The tiny bathroom to one side is where they currently are – door open, Ford leaning against the frame listlessly, watching as his brother works.

Stan just shakes his head, voice quiet, “Nah. I’ve dealt with worse.”

 _I bet you have_ , Ford doesn’t say, his mind lightly tripping over the words Stan barked at him earlier. Prison in three different countries, eating his way out of a car (?!) and, oh yes, the latest atrocity – being disfigured by his brother. Earlier Ford had been so worked up by everything, still on the edges of his own sanity and limited endurance, that Stan’s words only translated into anger, into an argument – one that could have cost them both dearly.

Thankfully, his brother had been fast thinking – tossing out a rope, a literal lifeline – to Ford that saved him from being sucked into another dimension. Tossing aside the accursed journal had been an easy decision – this? What Ford’s facing now? Nothing about this will be easy. Still, he finds himself more than capable of facing it now, sheer exhaustion tinting everything with a fuzzy surreality that takes the edge off, “Stanley…”

His brother just hums, even as he washes the burn, even as he applies ointment he found in the cabinet. There’s a subtle tightening to his jaw, but otherwise he takes it all in stride. _I’ve dealt with worse_. Ford starts nibbling on his lips. First the top, then the bottom. Stan lets out a huff of laughter, “Go on, Sixer. Spit it out. Yer doin’ the thing.”

“…the-the thing?”

Stan just nods, “Always did that when we was kids. Started eating yer own face when yer worried about something or got a big ask. So? Go on? What is it?”

“Stanley, why did you come?”

The question rings out. Sad and serious. Stan pauses at it a moment. His eyes meet Ford’s and Ford swallows the large lump that suddenly forms in the center of his throat. Their gazes hold for awhile and it seems at first as if neither will falter, but, shockingly, it’s Stan who looks down first, murmuring, “You know why.”

“Because we’re family? Twins?” Ford offers and it’s the easy out. The olive branch. His own version of a rope that can drag his brother from the gapping maw that’s always been between them. In fact, Ford feels like he can offer more – that he _should_ offer more. His brother saved his life tonight (This morning? What the hell time even is it?) and it’s the least he can do, “I mean, when-when you came here I was so keyed up and-and such an ass. You-you were right. About…about my being selfish and I-!”

“Can it, Poindexter,” Stan says, his eyes shooting back up and drilling into Ford’s, “‘S like I said. You _know_ why I came.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Ford clears his throat, looks away, to the side, looks anywhere but at his...at Stan, “The other thing.”

Stan makes a sound, something close to amused, but not. A sort of dark humored snort, “Yeah. ‘The other thing’.”

“…it’s-it’s been a long time…” Ford can think of nothing else to say. His mind immediately shifts to warm beaches, to warmer kisses. To salt sticky skin and forbidden touches and the _thrill_. The _thrill_. Nothing ever beat that thrill. Not even everything with Cipher could match it. Those stolen moments – the sounds of the boardwalk at night, the taste of ice cream on someone else’s lips…on _his_ lips.

There’s a sound now – a deep, thundering boom, and it takes Ford a moment to realize it’s his heart. He looks back to Stan and Stan’s eyes never turned away. Never wavered. Not this time. Ford whispers, “It’s…been so long.”

“It has.”

“Over a decade.”

“Yup.”

“And you still feel-?”

Stan walks over to him. Close to him. Right in his space and Ford can’t breathe. He never could. Not when Stan was close. Not like this. Not when he’s all heat and power and radiating an emotion beyond familial love, “Always.”

A shaky, ear shattering inhale leaves Ford at that, at the look Stan is levering him with as he repeats softly, “Always, Ford.”

He self consciously (unconsciously?) licks his lips and Stan growls, “Yer doin’ it again.”

“I’m-I’m not…”

“With that goddamn mouth of yers…” Stan rumbles and the shaft of lusty heat that steals through Ford takes the air from his lungs, takes his sanity and this – _this_ is why he had to get away. This is why he had to leave. This is why he was so mad Stanley sabotaged his scholarship. He can’t live like this. Can he? No one can – not under this power, this desire. This constant, aching _want_.

“Stanley…”

“You pushed me away, I went. You call me back, I come runnin’. That’s how this works. How it’s _always_ worked. I can be as much a selfish prick as anybody else. You might top me in that department a lil’ bit, you might get my ire up…but at the end of it, past all that bullshit…”

His face comes closer, closer.

“…always, Ford. Always and forever.”

Ford is already moaning even before Stan’s mouth captures his. Moans as Stan’s lips ease his apart, tongue surging forward to tangle with his and yes, yes, _yes_! He’s missed this. Need it. Craved it. He’s tried so hard, so desperately, to make himself about anything else. Make himself about science, about anomalies, about Cipher and portals and-!

But this, this is who he truly is. _Always_. He matches Stan’s intensity, matches his fervor in the kiss and then he…it’s, well, it’s embarrassing, but he sort of swoons. His knees start to give out and Stan catches him as he starts to tumble, one strong arm wrapping around him, providing weight beneath the curve of his spine as he draws away to say hoarsely, “Whoa, whoa – what-?”

“M’sorry,” Ford slurs and he blinks, feeling foolish as he admits, “I-? It’s…it’s been a while…”

“Since I kissed the hell outta you?” Stan chuckles and it makes Ford’s heart flutter, “True enough…”

“No,” Ford says automatically followed by a quick, embarrassed, “Well, well – _yes_. Yes, of course. But-but I meant more,” the words suddenly seem a struggle, it all does, as he manages sluggishly, “more sleep. It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper good night’s rest.”

Stan just makes a grumbling sound of agreement, “Saw the circles under yer eyes. Like I said, Ma with too much coffee. Eventually she’d crash. Take it you haven’t?”

A rough shake of his head and Stan clucks his tongue, “Guess our proper reunion’ll have to wait then.”

The thought of a ‘proper’ reunion makes Ford’s whole body shudder, a pulse of pure liquid heat shooting straight down to his dick. Still, it feels somewhat hazy. The whole weight of his body still set on it’s need for rest. But rest…

…it’s not a commodity he’s sure he can come by. He’s had yet to tell Stan everything he’s been through. Yet to confess about Cipher. But, with the portal closed, it’s possible the little demonic miscreant is gone. Or, at the very least, far for now. Ford has taken many precautions and he might be safe. But Stanley…to wantonly risk his safety…

Ford wants to explain. Feels he needs to. He needs to tell Stanley everything, but his brother is already moving, already ushering him towards his nearby mattress. He’s pushing back covers and pushing him beneath them, crawling under himself and Ford thinks of Stan’s fresh wound, he thinks of the dangers, he thinks of so many things, but then Stan is crushing him close, drawing him into a deep bear hug.

They’re spooning, Ford tucked small and deep into the curve of Stan’s big body as he rumbles against the nape of his neck, “Sleep, Sixer.”

“Stanley-! I-! I should-!”

“Whatcha should do is sleep, ya knucklehead,” Stan plants a firm kiss where his mouth is, “Go on. I’ll take care of ya. Watch over you. Make sure no monsters come out from under the bed…”

Ford’s lips twitch. Memories float back again, them as children. The waxy scent of Crayola crayons, glue and construction paper and too much glitter. Storms outside, lightning flashing and thunder rumbling and Stanley getting into Ford’s bunk just like this, holding him close and saying that exact same thing.

Ford shifts, grunts, “I’m not a child, Stanley…”

“Sure, sure,” is the response. Very little belief. Ford grumbles, but doesn’t move much more. He can just see snow drifting outside, falling in soft sheets outside the frosty window of his bedroom. A far cry from Jersey. They’re older now. Wiser now…as it were.

Stanley’s arms tighten, he presses another kiss to Ford’s nape. Ford breathes in deeply and his eyelids are…heavy. The weight behind them insurmountable. His brother. His twin…he saved him. Saved him from a fate that might’ve been worse than death. He saved him.

And, what’s more, he still loves him.

After all this time….he still loves him.

And Ford?

He loves Stanley right back.

Always.


End file.
